For One Night Only
by BringmetoNirvana
Summary: Following the final confrontation between Batman and the Joker a void of power is left behind. Jerome Valeska and a group of Joker's men from Arkham vy for power and proving themselves worthy of being the Batman's worst enemy by targeting attacks on the people he holds dearest and testing his morals to the extreme. Note: this Jerome is the same as in the show, but born late.


**For One Night Only**

 _Origins_

Jerome Valeska sits next to Paul Cicero and across from detective Striebler. "What was your relationship with your mother before she passed, Jerome?" The detective asked, and Jerome had a thought in mind. " _A filthy animal who deserved what she got_." If only it was that simple to be honest about the murder, he didn't care how he'd be judged by others, just he didn't quite want to see the electric chair yet.

"I loved her...well she was my mother, of course!" Jerome has to admit his performance is quite convincing. "I see...would you know of anyone with reason to hurt your mother?" He had enough of dealing with these bozos, "Look! I had no clue who could have done this and I want them caught more than anything...you know dwelling on trauma is a lot for the developing mind." Striebler looks into his eyes. "Then why aren't you traumatized?"

"This—This—" Paul interrupts, "—Tell him the truth, Jerome. I helped you hide the body, and I even told you how to destroy the despicable evidence of the horror you brought on your mother." Jerome feels irritation towards the situation before allowing a smile to cover his face. "Damn, hell of a punchline you got there Ciere." Jerome starts to laugh and he puts the act away. "I did it, and _whoa_ it was a rush! I gotta say, Paulie that I never thought it'd be you to give me a hand, but it doesn't surprise me that in the end it be _you_ to screw me over!"

"Jerome...you must know there is a reason why I helped you like I did...after what you did." Jerome turns his head to the side, "Color me stupid, but no, I _don't_ see why you'd help me." Detective Striebler clears his throat. "We've run some blood tests and Mr. Cicero is indeed your father, Mr. Valeska." Jerome's psychotic glee didn't go away, actually quite the contrary it put him in a better mood. "Who knew? I'd figured that I'd be the son of a clown that OD'd, rather than a blind fortune teller."

* * *

Jerome didn't stop laughing, the hilarity of it all kept him smiling through the trial to come and his eventual shipping to Arkham. The loony bin had been a haven of raving lunatics and murderers... _his_ type of people, no more circus clowns and no more nagging. The only downside were the guards and he made sure to recall the names for when he blew this pop stand.

"Give me your food." His cellmate asked as he doodled in his journal while eating a piece of bread. "No, I'll _pass_." The other man laughs, "I'm in the Joker's gang. I could pop your head off if you don't give me what I want." Jerome laughs, "Oh yes, I'm supposed to fear your gang. I'm sorry, _buuut_ —" his cellmate forcefully pulls him up by his shoulder.

"NOW—" The yelling ceases once he feels a a sharp pain in his stomach as he reaches his hand to the wound as Jerome retracts his pencil and then stabs him again as he laughs maniacally. "Tic Tac Toe, three in a row!" He gestures to the three stab wounds as the man bleeds profusely as Jerome begins to draw once more as he continues to revel in his own horror.

"GUARDS!" He hears other inmates yell as he chuckles repeatedly. "With my talent and your guts we're going to make a killing! Oh and I'll make sure to send the checks to the next of kin!" Jerome writes his signature as he turns to greet the guards, who'd come to take him out. "Welcome! I do apologize for my roomates condition as I think he's come down with—"

A fist ends his speech as the guards surround him and begin to drag him away. "Oh that was the smarts!" Blood rolls down his nose as he gets wrapped in a straight jacket and stuck with a needle to transport the _'treatment'_ serum they used to prep prisoners to visit with the doctors after a bout of violence. They dragged Jerome into his physiologist's office as the bleeding mess of his cellmate is taken into the med ward building next door.

"Hello, Doc! Beautiful weather we have today!" His doctor looks to the guard, who'd held Jerome up. "What did he do?" she asks. "Stabbed his Cellmate over twenty times with a pencil and drew with his blood." Jerome chuckles, "What can I say? I have an eye for crimson?" The Guard sits him down in the patient seat, "He sounds just like the other clown when he gets wound up." Jerome loses his sense of humor and looks at the guard with a death glare, "I'm sure there is _nobody_ quite like me—" he cuts of his rant at the moment he remembers he doesn't know that guards name. Nobody would be able to call him a rip off and live to tell about it.

"Jerome, can you tell me why you did what you did?" Jerome rolls his eyes at the doctor, "I'm in the loony bin, Doc. It was also a very fun experience, reminded me a lot of time I spent with my mother. Really interesting guy that cellmate of mine was. Really got to know him in those last few precious moments we had together, alas all good shows come to an end _eventually..._ do you want to know who he really was?"

The Doctor didn't want to humor the insane babbling of the ginger psychopath, but if got her any closer to finding the base of the delusions that lead to Jerome's murderous tendencies. "Who was he..." Jerome reminisces, "A coward, Doctor. His first response to me telling him no when he _requested_ my food was to threaten me with his gang. He also kept his eyes shut like a baby—" the doctor speaks up. "Enough! You do understand that a man is gone forever because of what you did and there is nothing you can do to bring him back."

"Meh, his sticking potential was low. Sometimes you just gotta shake up the dynamic to make it all the more interesting and dull characters just don't make the _cut_." The psychologist writes in her book, "You get that this is real life, not some show that you can write." he shrugs. "Is it _really_? Maybe that's why ninety-nine percent of life never accounts for anything and is forgotten; you're all just following the plan of the guy who seems smart and maybe that's the fault of you _sane_ folks who can't just cut loose and have a little fun."

The psychologist didn't want to continue listening to Jerome explain his reasoning for his killing, but if she managed to reach the root of his desire there was hope it could be treated and maybe he'd be capable to rejoin society.

"Let's do some word association."

"Oh games? Sounds _delightful_."

"Love."

"Worthless."

"Life."

"Boring."

"Boring? Why would you say life is boring?"

"It's all the same and it all adds up to a zero sum when eventually everyone forgets about you."

"What about your loved ones?"

Jerome frowns, something that had never been seen by the staff at Arkham. "My mother, being the animal she was had a rendezvous with a snake trainer every time he came through town usually around my birthday and they would beat me after getting boozed up. Eventually I left the trailer and went outside where Mr. Cicero also known as daddy dearest was and he saw me crying. He asked why I was crying and I told him that they beat me and he looked me dead in the eye and told me the truth. _Jerome,_ n _obody will ever care about you or anyone else in this world and it's best you learn this now._ "

It wasn't surprising to hear such a thing from a boy with as dark a history as Valeska, his image of the world filled with nihilism and torment at a young age. The boy began to laugh again, "But that's enough from me, I want to know your story, Doc. Working with guys like me isn't exactly the prototypical career for anyone." she looks at him. "I took a career that I thought would help people best. Now tell me if you have any other family members."

"Just the one, and if I ever saw him again then I'd be sure to skin him."

"Him? Do you have a brother?"

"No, I had a rat that his behind his smug glasses, acting like he was a sweet angel and treated me like the devil, and which at least that part I was honest about."

The door opens, "I have orders to bring this one to solitary confinement. I must apologize Ms. Wentworth." Jerome is pulled up once more and is forcefully dragged to the door of the office. He gives one last smile as he throws his head back to look at her one more time. "Don't be so serious, smile!" He yells as the guard gives him a blow to the body.

* * *

Once they arrived back at the prison part of Arkahm, Jerome was surprised when he wasn't taken to solitary. "Don't exactly got a map of the joint, but I don't think this is solitary—and about the map I'd take it if—" He feels a steel object poking him in the back. "Shut up."

He was lead down a dark corridor to a surprisingly unguarded cell block. "Is it always this bland in here?" Without receiving an answer Jerome smiles, "Fine since you don't want to finish I conversation then I will myself!" he turns his head one way, "Hello there my name is Jerome!" he turns his head the other way. "Jerome? That's my name too, and you look—"

"One more quip and I don't care about how much the boss wants to talk to you."

"Ah, so a boss? Didn't know Arkham was leasing office space down here with the extra crazy people! And they're hiring police? A double score my man, up high!" Despite the threat the officer had previously given, Jerome could tell that he was a necessary asset and untouchable, so he began pushing the guard around and chuckling to himself.

Eventually they come to a singular cell with a complex lock system attached to it. The Guard uses a card key to open the door and he then speaks, "Get in." he steps into the cell and is immediately confronted with the white visage of a familiar clown that everyone in Gotham knew. "Welcome to my little enclave, want a steamed rat tail?"

Jerome grabs the tail and munches down on it before swallowing, "Could have used a little salt." The Joker smiles, "Now let's cut to the chase of why I brought you here today! I heard about the little spat with my help today and it got a little messy. I am rather impressed with your work and I looked into your backstory and I think you'd be a ripe pick for my crew, especially with your showmanship. I have plans to bust out of this joint and I want you to help me when we take the fight out to the streets of Gotham." The unblinking look of The Joker and the lack of humor stunned Jerome, this was the famous Joker? The man who'd gone blow for blow with the Batman?

"I'm not what you'd expect, eh? I'm sure as a showman you'd understand why I tend to play it up for the camera's."

"So long as you can help me out of this joint I could care less if you were the devil offering me a dance in the pale moonlight."

"There will be an opportunity for freedom if you hold your cards right, speaking of cards take mine."

The Joker gives him a playing card facing down, Jerome flips it over to see the deformed shape of the Joker playing cards. "Never show them your hand." He is cryptically told as the guard opens the talking slit, "Time is up." the door opens as Jerome is then drug to solitary. Jerome never stopped smiling that day and his eyes remained on guard for his opportunity. "Tic tock, the Joker is on the clock."


End file.
